The Moon Was Bright
by EmiliaWrites
Summary: Slowly, Sookie starts to let Eric back into her life just in time for Russell's return to Bon Temps. M for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: _I don't own anything. Also, no Tara right now. She's gone away somewhere, and I'm not sure where she is, but I got sick of her. And because there is no Tara, I'm ignoring the Debbie Pelt incident at the end of 4.12._

The moon was bright. Sookie shifted slightly on her pillow, pulling the single white sheet that covered her to rest along her hips as she opened her eyes. The almost floor-to-ceiling window was open, allowing the cold night air to ender the room, and the breeze to rustle her hair. The light of the moon illuminated the bare skin of her back and shoulders that wasn't covered by the white camisole she wore. She listened, ears straining in the night for the sound that had awoken her. She glanced at the clock – it was just after 3 in the morning – too early to get up. She sighed and turned over into her back, reaching across the bed blindly for the body that should – and had for the past week – been there. The mattress was cool to her touch, and she smiled faintly, missing him. It was something that even years of absence probably would not fix. She held back tears she knew she shouldn't have, and stared up at the ceiling, ignoring her empty bed and deciding that she had imagined whatever she thought she heard.

It shouldn't be like this. She knew it, but it was for the best. She was the one who'd done it – not that it made it any easier. But for the life of her, in that moment, she couldn't think of any reason that could justify what she'd done at Bill's mansion two weeks ago. Theoretically, she knew it made sense. Logically, she had made the right choice. But emotionally? Her Gran always used to tell her, "the heart wants what the heart wants, Sookie. Ain't nothing we can do about it."

Sookie shifted and resettled, moving to the cooler part of the bed, as she thought about what she had done. She didn't regret leaving Bill. She knew that. When she said that she knew he'd loved her just as much as she'd loved him, she meant it. She _had_ loved him. But looking at it honestly, she knew she hadn't loved him for a while now. She turned her face, inhaling deeply. The pillow smelled of him. She couldn't quite place the smell; it somewhere between a smell that curled back into her throat, warming her and sending tingles all the way to her toes, and something else inherently… _him_.

She blinked up at the ceiling, realizing for the first time that she wasn't the least bit tired, which was at the very least incredibly inconvenient. Her gaze drifted around the room, lingering on each piece of furniture. She knew he'd done this. She'd known for while now, just refused to let her mind go there. He was good with his hands – in more ways than one, she remembered, blushing – and she knew he'd spent time restoring what could be salvaged of her furniture and building entirely new pieces when nothing could be done to fix what the maenad had left in her wake.

Sookie ran a finger over the detailed design on the headboard. It was a dark wood – probably rosewood – with the most intricate carvings covering the surface. As she traced the line of one of the vines, she felt the subtle imperfections beneath the pad of her finger, and she knew he'd done this himself by hand. He'd made her a bed. And despite the frat boy implications, she let out a sigh on contentment. He'd made her a bed.

The heard something _whoosh_ by outside and she sat up. That sound was entirely too familiar to her now. She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, reaching for her white cotton robe as she made her way out of the bedroom and downstairs. She was tying the ties of the robe around her waist as she stepped off the stairs and walked towards the front door. She paused a few feet from it when she saw him through the glass, standing on her porch. She crossed the remaining distance slowly, and her eyes never left his as she unlocked the door and opened it.

She hadn't seen him in two weeks – and frankly, she was surprised it had lasted that long. She was convinced something would happen that would send her running to him or Bill for help, or visa versa, as it always had. But she'd had two weeks of peace. She'd used the time she had to take stock of her life. She'd unpacked the remaining boxes Jason had stored in her room and officially made the move into Gran's old room. She'd had time to notice what had been changed in the restoration of her house. She had satellite TV and Internet, and she knew she wasn't paying for either of these accommodations. She had several new pieces of furniture, new carpets and draperies. If she was honest, it was a little boring. But she reasoned that she needed it after all she'd been through.

"It's 3 in the morning," she said when he said nothing. He raised his eyebrows and she sighed. "You realize I've been getting an average of four hours of sleep a night since I got involved with all you vampires, don't you?"

A smile ghosted across his face as he handed her a small stack of paperwork. "The deed to your house," he said.

She stared at the papers he was holding out for her before looking back up and meeting his eyes. "You're giving me back my house?" she asked, stunned.

He expelled an unnecessary breath of air in frustration. "If I cannot protect you, I would feel better if you have complete control over who you may or may not invite into your home," he told her. He sounded stung, not that she blamed him.

"And you thought 3 am was a good time for this?" she asked, still processing what was happening. The look he gave her actually made her shiver, so she accepted the paperwork from him. The stack was thicker than she was expecting and as she began flipping through it, she turned on her heel, leaving the door open for him as she made her way towards the kitchen, turning on the light.

He watched her walk away and for a moment, he couldn't decide whether or not to follow her. His pride made him want to wait outside, occupy himself with what business he could conduct via cellphone. His love for her made him want to follow her inside, and not spend anymore time than he had to away from her. After several minutes of intense deliberation, he pushed aside his pride and stepped inside the house, telling himself it was because he needed to know she was safe, which really was irrelevant because he didn't need to be inside her house to know it.

As he walked through her house, he let his gaze wander over the books she'd bought to fill the new bookshelves he'd built, the carpet's he'd ordered that she'd liked enough to keep, and the furniture she'd moved around to her liking. Eric leaned in the doorway of the kitchen, studying her. She looked tan, bronzed; she'd been spending more time outside. She also looked surprisingly well rested. He hadn't realized how tired he'd come accustomed to seeing her look, and felt a wave of guilt sweep through him. Her robe had slipped off her shoulders and he marveled at the gentle curve of her neck, the sweep of her shoulders and the sway of her back as she bent over the table.

The sound of a page turning seemed far too loud in the silent kitchen; the harsh, dry crackle like dried leaves. Sookie smoothed the paper flat as if that would undo the sound. She was sitting at the kitchen table, elbows on either side of the stack of paperwork he'd brought her, reading though it. She hadn't been surprised that he'd followed her in; in truth, she would have been disappointed if he hadn't. She found his presence in her house strangely comforting. It was familiar, and she realized she'd missed not just him, but the presence of someone other than herself in her house.

The clock ticked loudly from where it hung above the stove and she looked up from the paperwork at him. "Would you like to sit?" she asked.

He took another unnecessary breath and crossed over, stopping once he'd reached her chair. He reached into his pocket and set a pen on the table next to her hand. "Sign it and it's yours," he said.

Her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly as she stared up at him. She wanted to pay him back for all the work he'd done, draw up a payment plan for buying back her house. But she knew he'd never agree to it. For a minute, she seriously considered arguing with him, but the fight was gone from her. She had nothing left to give at the moment, and she _really_ wanted her house back. So instead of arguing, she settled on a simple, "Okay."

"I'll wait outside," he told her.

"Outside?" she asked. He gave her a slightly amused look, and she nodded. "Right," she repeated, feeling silly she hadn't realized he wouldn't be able to stay inside her house once she'd signed the papers. Her eyes never left his, and she could have sworn she had caught him in a moment without his armor. There were moments where he looked surprisingly child-like, vulnerable and so innocent it broke her heart. But as quickly as it had gone away, his armor was back on and his face was once again cold and expressionless.

She looked down at the papers in front of her, and she felt her hair blow softly around her shoulders as he left the room. She reached out and picked up the silver pen, feeling the weight in her hand. She absently thought it must have been an expensive one, and she wondered why anyone would feel the need to spend so much money on a pen. She uncapped it and flipped the document to the yellow sticky tab marked so impersonally with the words SIGN HERE. Without letting herself think anymore than she already had over this situation, she signed.

Outside, Eric studied the front door of her house curiously, wondering if he'd ever see the inside of her house again. He couldn't stop the faint smile from appearing on his face when Sookie appeared in the doorway. She stepped onto the porch and handed him the stack of papers. "Here," she said, wrapping her robe tighter around her body. The silence of the night was deafening, and she shifted her weight nervously. "Is that it?" she asked after a moment. "Did it work?"

He smiled fully this time. "Would you like me to test it?" he asked, his tone teasing.

She shook her head, shivering. "I trust you," she said.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise, but he nodded. "I should get back to Fangtasia."

She felt a pang of jealousy; how many girls had he fucked since she'd broken everything they'd had? How many had he drank from? She pushed those thoughts aside. She had no claim on him, no right to judge how he chose to live his life. She'd lost that right two weeks ago. "Is it nice being back?" she asked, almost cringing at how impersonal and awkward her question was.

He arched eyebrow. "You could say that."

Silence. "Goodnight, then," she said finally, biting her lip. His stare drunk her in, as if he couldn't get enough, and she couldn't look away either – somehow, being near him again had made her lose all her determination and resolve. Why had she done all this again?

Slowly, Eric brought a hand up, cupping her face gently. "Good bye, Sookie," he said softly, before disappearing into the night.

Sookie stood there on her porch for several seconds before uttering a single word. "Fudge…"


	2. Chapter 2

A/N:_ I don't like Jesus being dead either, so he's not. Not that this has much pertinence in this chapter, but that Lafayette is his usual fabulous self._

Sookie leaned against the bar at Merlotte's, staring blankly at the empty booth across from her in the equally empty bar. It was almost eleven thirty – half an hour before the lunch rush – and she was supposed to be helping Lafayette with cleaning glasses and menus. She sighed heavily and rested her head in her hand. She couldn't understand why Eric had suddenly appeared on her porch in the middle of the night, why he'd suddenly felt the need to sign her house back into her possession. It seemed strange, sudden and the more she thought about it, impulsive. Eric Northman was anything but impulsive. Well, she thought, sighing again and thinking back over the past few years she'd known him, most of the time.

"What did you do now?" Lafayette asked accusingly, sidling up next to her, beer glass and towel in hand. She looked over at him, and he groaned. "Eric Northman?" he exclaimed. "Again? Girl, I can't _handle_ any more crazy shit right now."

"I'm trying to be strong, Lafayette, I swear I am, but he just keeps coming!" Sookie moaned, stomping her foot in frustration. "I don't know what to do."

Lafayette flicked her with his own towel. "Jus' cause you's a hot mess right now don't mean I gots to do yo' work," he said.

She rubbed her eyes, wishing, not for the first time, that she had a normal life. "What do I do?" she asked, turning her head slightly so she could see him out of the corner of her eye.

"What make you think I'mma do all this shit by my beautiful self?" Lafayette asked, clucking his tongue as she reluctantly picked up the towel again and resumed her task of cleaning the menus. He picked up another wet glass and began drying it. Glancing at her, he sighed and shook his head. "Sook, listen to me," he said, rolling his eyes. "I ain't fuckin' Eric Northman's biggest fan, but boy's a _fine_ piece of ass."

Sookie snorted, laughing as she focused her attention on the menus once more. "Yes he is," she muttered, shaking her head and readying herself for the lunchtime rush.

Sookie pulled up to her house almost eight hours later, having pulled a double shift at Merlotte's. She climbed out of her car, slinging the over-stuffed bag of groceries on her hip as she walked up the steps to her porch, almost dropping the bag and her keys when she saw him leaning against the railing to her right.

"Cheese and rice, Eric," she breathed, regaining her composure. Her heart was thudding loudly in her chest and she was breathing hard. "What are you doing here?" she asked, looking around.

"I thought you were working the day shift," he said, taking a step towards her.

"I pulled a double," she answered, frowning in confusion. "Why are you here?" she asked again.

Eric studied her for several moments, his expression betraying nothing. Finally, he looked away, glancing in the direction of her front yard. "It would seem I haven't been entirely truthful with you," he said.

She sighed, adjusting the heavy bag of groceries on her hip. "About what" she asked, her tone clipped and impatient. She was so tired of half-truths and lies. _This_, she reminded herself, was why she'd made the choice she'd made. When he remained silent, she turned and unlocked her front door. "I have to put these away," she said as she walking into the hall.

He placed a hand on either side of the doorway and leaned forward, testing the barrier. Sookie looked over her shoulder at him, surprised that he hadn't followed her in. "Oh," she said, turning around and tilting her head playfully. "Eric Northman, won't you please come in?" she asked, sweetly.

He gave her a dry, sarcastic smile before walking over the threshold, following her into the kitchen. She set the bag of groceries on the table and began pulling out her purchases. "So what did you lie to me about?" she asked, unloading fresh vegetables and fruit from the top of the bag.

"I didn't lie," he said firmly.

"_Okay_, what didn't you tell me last night, then?" she asked, rolling her eyes. She was so tired of his games.

Eric took an unnecessary breath. "It would seem that Russell Edgington has managed to escape from his concrete prison," he told her bluntly, not seeing the need to sugar coat it any further. Giving her anything other than the stone cold facts would only complicate the situation, and encourage her anger with him.

She stared at him for a couple of seconds before digging around in the bag of groceries again. She decided it would be easier to accept this piece of news; it turns out, it was easier to roll with the inevitable punches rather than to fight against them. "So Russell's… what, coming after me, now?" she asked, as she put a loaf of sandwich bread in the breadbox.

Eric picked up a jar of peanut butter from the bag, examining it curiously. She didn't seem upset, which was unexpected. In fact, she seemed down right cavalier about it all. "It's possible," he said, scanning the label and nutrition information. "What is… peanut butter?"

Sookie looked over at him. "It's made from peanuts," she answered honestly, amazed at the turn the conversation had suddenly taken. "You put it on toast, or sandwiches."

He looked at her. "Do you enjoy it?"

"It's not my favorite."

"I understand many humans are allergic to peanuts," Eric continued, tossing the jar from one hand to the other.

"Not me," she said quickly, determined to steer the conversation back to a more productive path. "So is that why you gave me back my house?" she pressed. "Because Russell's out there somewhere and he might come after me?"

Eric walked over to her pantry and put the peanut butter away. "No," he said curtly as he picked up a bag of apples and moved towards the refrigerator. "Russell's escape expedited the need to return your house to you, but ultimately, the house is yours." Sookie watched him in silence as he continued emptying the bag of groceries, leaving the pint of coffee ice cream she'd bought on the table for her and retrieving a spoon from the silverware drawer. He held it out to her. "I don't want to lie to you," he continued. "I should have told you the full truth last night, but you never asked, and at the time, I thought somehow you would be safer if you didn't know about Russell."

She took the spoon from him. "Keeping things from me doesn't exactly help your cause," she told him, echoing what she'd said to him right after he'd kissed her in his office so long ago. "If a psychotic megalomaniac vampire is comin' for me, I have the right to know."

"I know," Eric agreed. "This is why I am telling you now."

Sookie plunked down on a chair, taking the lid off the carton and scooping up a spoonful of the ice cream. It felt petty to argue with him about the fact that he should have told her the minute – no, the second – he was made aware of Russell's new found freedom. The truth was, she'd become so numb to it all, it scarcely fazed her anymore. An ancient, insane vampire wanted her dead, and here she sat in her kitchen, eating coffee ice cream right out of the carton. Or maybe this _was_ the appropriate response to it all.

She took another bite of her ice cream. He was being honest, telling her the truth. He'd said he didn't want to lie to her, and she believed him. "How long has he been free?" she asked as he took a seat across the table from her.

Eric flinched almost imperceptibly. "A few weeks," he answered.

She dropped her spoon; it clattered against the wood table, sending drops of coffee ice cream flying. "A few weeks?" she repeated, her voice sharp and accusatory.

"I somehow felt," Eric said slowly, haltingly, as his blue eyes bore into hers. "That… losing this house would mean that you would be lost to me as well. I apologize for letting my… emotions… get the better of me."

_Damn it_, she thought. Talk about saying things. She felt her anger subside when she realized she felt the same way about him; his ownership of her house really had been the last thing effectively tying her life to his. Other than his blood, of course, but she couldn't even begin to think any further on that. Whatever had taken place in the cubby that night, she knew was more than just a simple exchange. He'd said _we will be _one. What had _that_ meant, anyway? But she shrugged it off. It could wait, and she surprised herself at how easily she let it go. At least for now.

She kept telling herself to look away, but she felt as if she would die if she did. And so she sat across from him, falling and drowning into his eyes, feeling dirty and exhausted and completely unable to look away. There was something in his eyes that told her he wasn't doing this to toy with her.

"I may not agree with what you did," she said slowly, finally, after what seemed like an eternity to him. "But I understand why you did it. And I appreciate your honesty."

He smiled ruefully. "Very diplomatic, _lilla__ duva_," he said.

She arched an eyebrow. "Are you surprised?" she asked.

He chuckled. "I would expect nothing less."

She stood up, put the lid back on the carton of ice cream. "So," she said, crossing over to the refrigerator and opening the freezer. "What are we going to do about Russell?" Eric stared at her in silence. "When are you going to get it through your head that you're not the only one in this?" she demanded angrily. "You can't seriously expect me to just sit back and watch–"

"That's exactly what I expect you to do," Eric countered, standing and walking towards her. "Do _you_ really think you stand much of a chance against a three thousand year old vampire?"

"I stand a better chance than you," she said defiantly, staring him down unblinkingly. She was furious. Her resolve to roll with the punches had left the building. Reason and control were nowhere to be found. She couldn't believe he was doing this – _again._ Sookie Stackhouse was many things, but she was not a damsel in distress. She wasn't going to wait around in her tower for her prince to save her, and she most certainly wasn't going to let him fight the dragon on his own. And just as she opened her mouth to let him know, he brought his hands up to cup her face.

She stared at him, unable to look away. Something in his eyes told her he was in as much pain as she was, that he was still holding her face this close to his because to let go, to pull away, was unthinkable. So it wasn't really that much of a surprise when she felt his lips pressed against hers.

Sookie wasn't sure if she had leaned into him, or if he had pulled her towards him, but she supposed that didn't actually make much of a difference. All that really mattered was that their mouths were melting together in desperate, hungry kisses, the sort of kisses that screamed of need. She knew her lips would be bruised and swollen in the morning, but she didn't care. He had already pulled her hair out of its ponytail, fingers tangling up in the sudden downward tumble of golden strands.

She was finding it harder and harder to form coherent thoughts because his hands had moved downward, slipping beneath the thin fabric of her shirt, and the brush of his hand skimming over her stomach made her mind go numb. She knew they were so far from perfect, it hurt, but in that moment, all that mattered were his lips on hers, the tangle on his fingers in her hair, and his body pressing hers into the counter.

When she finally broke the kiss, light headed and gasping for breath, she rested her hands on his chest, leaning against him. She felt his breath hot on her neck, and he trailed his fingers up and down her back. She closed her eyes, basking in the sensation his feather-light touch was creating.

"Don't think you're gonna distract me by kissin' me like that," she said, barely able to form a sentence in her mind.

He chuckled and tucked his finger beneath her chin, tilting her head up so he could meet his eyes. "Are you saying that didn't work?" he asked, drinking her in with his endless blue eyes.

She opened her mouth to reply but his cellphone rang. Immediately, Eric was filled with annoyance that bordered on anger at the sound of Pam's ringtone. But she knew better than to call him while he was at Sookie's, so it must have been important.

"What?" he barked. He listened for a moment, rucking a strand of hair behind her hear. She'd placed her hands on his chest and was now running them slowly down, stopping at his hips. It was incredibly distracting. It would take all he had to leave her – not that it had ever been easy to walk away from Sookie even for just a few hours, but now… in light of what had just happened between them? Eric pushed his emotions aside and refocused his attention of his child. He knew the news Pam had for him could not be ignored, that he would have to leave for Shreveport immediately. "_Jag kommer stax_," he said finally, before hanging up. Never once had he taken his eyes off hers. "I have to go," he told her softly.

She tried to steady her breathing, but she was failing miserably. "Okay," she breathed.

And he was gone. By the time she recognized the rush of cold air around her, he was gone from sight, and she was left with nothing but her swollen lips, the dampness between her thighs and her pounding heart.

* * *

><p><em>Translations: 'Lilla duva' means 'little dove' to the best of my knowledge. 'Jag kommer stax' is 'I'm coming now', again, to the best of my limited knowledge of the language.<em>

_Thanks for your kind words of encouragement!  
><em>


	3. Chapter 3

A/N_: I own nothing.  
><em>

_"Sometimes I lie awake at night, and I ask, 'Where have I gone wrong?' Then a voice says to me, 'This is going to take more than one night." - Charlie Brown_

Eric was furious. Angry didn't even begin to sum it up. Enraged could almost explain it. The more he thought about it, desperate seemed to be the most fitting adjective. He was desperate in every sense of the word; desperate for the bullshit he was currently wading through to be done with, to get the fucking Authority off his back long enough to regain Sookie's trust, but most of all he was desperate to have her in his arms again. He had never felt so desperate in his long, long life, not even in his quest for revenge of the murder of his family. Not even on the rooftop in Houston when he'd fought to convince Godric to live. No, this desperation was a different beast entirely.

She had kissed him. Or he had kissed her – he completely sure which, but what mattered was that any way he looked at it, she had kissed him back. She had been just as frantic, just as eager, just as fevering as he had been. _She kissed him back_. The thought stuck in his mind like a bolt of lightening. Despite the near-constant presence of members of the Authority in his life – which was to be expected, after staking their primary spokesperson, he assumed – the fact that she'd kissed him back served like a lifeline.

With great difficulty, Eric refocused his attention on the short little woman in front of him who was fitting a microphone to the lapel of his leather jacket. He hated PSA's. And determined as he was not to become the new porter boy for the Authority in light of Nan's 'untimely death,' he'd done more of them in the past week than he had in the past two decades. When it came down to politics, he really didn't care. It was something that came with living as long as he had. He knew how very transitory every new and rising faction was, and getting involved in it all would just complicate his life. He had no desire to be in the limelight.

No, his only desire was currently over 40 miles away in Bon Temps. He glanced at the clock on the wall; it was just after midnight. She would be asleep by now, and would most likely read him the riot act if he woke her up when he was through. He closed his eyes; he was honest when he'd told her two weeks ago he remembered all of their time together. In fact, he'd thought of little else since the night at Bill's mansion. What he felt for her, he'd never felt before. It was unlike the love he felt for Godric – that was different, a feeling he'd never fully understood. No, this was different. This was an all encompassing, fervent, ardent, passionate, borderline obsessional need to have her close, to care for her, to be with her. Yet at the same time, he knew that he would do anything for her to make her happy, and he had resigned himself to the fact that if her happiness was contingent on his absence from her life, he would do it.

The wisp of a girl cleared her throat, her cheeks flushing slightly as she struggled with the clip on the microphone. "Sorry," she muttered, shaking her head. "I can't get it…"

"Let me," Eric said roughly, shooing her away with a flick of his hand. He clipped the microphone on, sighed deeply – a habit he assumed he'd picked up from his time with Sookie – and turned to face the cameras.

* * *

><p>Sookie was furious. How dare he tell her Russell was back and expect her to sit around and wait for him to deal with it? Truth be told, she was more upset that he'd kissed her like that and zipped out the door without even a promise of <em>later<em>. She'd never been so turned on in her life, and it was only adding fuel to the fire at this point. Her fingers flexed around the steering wheel of her car, squeaking against the leather guard so tightly her knuckles were turning a bloodless shell color. A sign flew by her window, indicating Shreveport was five miles away. She pressed her foot down, gunning the engine, mentally preparing herself to let him have it.

Angry as she was, if she was truly honest, the anger didn't come close to managing the fear she felt – for both Eric and herself. Russell Edgington truly terrified her, and while she knew driving around on a deserted interstate with an insane vampire hell-bent on revenge flying around probably wasn't the best idea, she knew she had to be near him tonight.

Sookie pulled into the dark parking lot of Fangtasia, squinting through the windshield at the people loading video equipment into a van. She threw the car in park and hopped out, walking quickly to the door of the club.

"Sookie," Eric said coolly as she walked into the bar. He stood up from the stool, flicking away the microphone as he walked towards her. "This is… unexpected."

She suddenly felt like screaming at him. "Why do you think it's your responsibility to take care of me?" she demanded. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"Your gratitude is staggering," Eric deadpanned, arching an eyebrow.

"What if I don't want to be taken care of?" she continued, fuming. "I'm not a helpless little girl, Eric!"

He eyed the last camera crewmembers as they left the bar, only answering when the door had closed behind them. "I'm busy, Sookie," he said, his voice completely void of emotion. "What did you come here for?"

Sookie blinked. "I came… I, um…" She, for once in her life, did not have a good answer. She couldn't figure out what had compelled her to drive all the way to Shreveport at 1 in the morning. She shook her head, frowning. "I don't know," she said, finally. Her mind raced; there must have been a good reason. "I guess… I just wanted you to know you don't have to take care of me," she said quickly, relieved when it sounded passable.

Just as suddenly and seamlessly as it had happened in her kitchen, his lips were on hers. She barely had a chance to process what was happening – not that she would have stopped it if she'd had the chance.

Sookie had always considered herself a responsible girl. She worked to pay her bills, she recycled, volunteered at the church fundraisers and even at the soup kitchen around the holidays. She was responsible, intelligent, and certainly wasn't rash. But somehow, a mere twenty minutes ago, all intelligence, common sense and responsibility flew out the window. She moaned loudly, a sound that echoed throughout the empty bar as he pressed her against the door to his office. She locked her ankles behind his back, raking her fingernails down his back and over his scalp. He let out a growl of appreciation and kissed her reverently.

He was a player. Everyone with a pulse (or without one, for that matter) knew that – mainly because half of them had slept with him. It would seem that would have been enough to sound the warning bells.

Reaching down, she fumbled with the doorknob below her hip, jerking it erratically. Her fingers groped, searching for the key in the lock as she attempted to open it. He chuckled into her mouth, and reached down, his fingers intertwining with hers as they jerked the key side to side. Sookie gasped as the door flew open behind her and he stumbled, reaching a hand out for something to steady his balance. Her back hit the soft cushions of the couch and she grunted as he fell on top of her.

Her brain was screaming at her, telling her this was wrong on every level she could think of. But honestly, rational thought had left the building. Eric pressed his hips into hers as he kissed her long and hard. "What are you doing to me?" he breathed, his arms and body forming a cocoon around her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and arched into him. "Sookie…"

"Clothes off," she panted. "You're wearing too many."

The rumble of his pleased laugh warmed the space between them as though his body were a hearth. She pulled at his pants, and in a mash of twisting limbs, he kicked them down off the couch, followed by his black t-shirt before he turned his attention to her shorts. She pulled her shirt over her head and unclasped her bra as he slid the black material down her legs.

His palm followed the curve of her hip like a boat over a gently rolling wave, sliding her panties away. He slipped his hands around her midsection, over her navel, and down below. She bucked at the sudden, twisting, and sharp throb of pleasure. She fit with him, fit against his body like a lock yielding to a key, and she groaned as he massaged her into nonsensical bliss.

"Eric," she moaned. "That's…" Her breath fell away from her, leaving the words unspoken. She ground against him. "Please," she managed.

He grunted softly in her ear. She clenched around him with her thighs, slick and moaning. His breath caught, his motions stilled, and his whole body tensed before he recovered with a deep, rumbling laugh. "Bad girl," he said, chuckling.

"Please," she whispered.

He filled her moments later, when she was already shuddering with the first hints of an orgasm, and slowly began to move. The darkness lost its sharp quality as she rolled her eyes back into her head and jerked. He stroked her with his fingers, withdrawing only to trail up her abdomen.

Everything tensed, leaving her gasping, desperate, needing, and what was left of the room dissolved into the awareness that she was unresolved. She was a painting waiting for the perfect shade of red.

"Eric," she hissed. "Eric. Please."

Something slammed into the arm of the couch. His hand. He gripped it, using it to lever himself for a final thrust into her. She felt him inside, sliding against her inner walls, filling her. Something inside her split into jagged pieces, and the tension became breaking.

She released, and the warm aftershocks pealed through her like a chorus of bells. Her legs twitched, but he held her close, each additional thrust driving an extra rumble of sensation through her epicenter. As the waves slowed to a dull lapping at her shore and eased into silence, she sighed.

He shifted, rolling them so he wasn't crushing her with his weight, wrapping his arms low against her waist, hot and breathing, but spent.

They murmured a few incoherent words to each other and she brushed the few curls that had fallen down from his hair away from his sweating forehead. He held her close as she struggled to catch her breath, and before she knew it, she was asleep from sheer exhaustion. After a few minutes, he finally shut his eyes, the vague thought swirling around in his mind of how perfect she felt in his arms.

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><p><em>I promise the next one will be longer. The Holidays are so crazy!<em>


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: _I own nothing. If I had my way, these two would have gotten together a long time ago. I finished this one sooner than I thought I would. Enjoy!  
><em>

Sookie woke an hour later. Silently, she sat up and began collecting her clothing, her mind racing. There was no doubt in her mind that she had very much enjoyed what had just happened, and given the way Eric was looking at her now, she knew she could say the same for him. She stood, pulling on her panties and shorts, feeling the cool rush of air as he followed her lead and dressed himself in mere seconds. She was still looking around for her shirt when it occurred to her that he was leaving the ball totally and completely in her court. It seemed entirely uncharacteristic of him – Eric, the Viking vampire who always seemed to be in control. She snatched her shirt off his desk and pulled it over her head. What had she done?

Letting out a shallow breath she sat down on the couch next to him turned towards him, watching him carefully. She was suddenly very aware of their proximity. His hip was pressed against hers, their arms almost toughing. He was no longer looking at her, and for some reason she wished he would. She wished he would just look at her and smile, lie to her, and tell her that everything is going to be okay. "My Gran would be so mad at me right now," she said, letting out a dry laugh.

Eric looked over at her and arched an eyebrow. "Why?"

Sookie laughed again and stood up. "'Boys kiss you, Sookie'," she said in a fair imitation of her grandmother. "'Not the other way around'."

Eric chuckled. "To be fair, I think _I_ kissed you," he said. "I think you're safe." She nodded, smiling softly at him and he stood suddenly. "You are my miracle, _min Duva_," he said, holding her face in his hands. He sounded desperate, almost frantic. "You saved me. You woke me up. You are like coming up for air."

Sookie knew she had two choices, and she knew that whatever she decided could not be undone. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She loved him, and it didn't do any good denying it – least of all to herself. But could she trust him? She had ended things with him – and with Bill – because she didn't know how to trust either of them. But contrary to all her expectations and preconceptions, he was still there; quietly, un-intrusively there.

Sookie opened her eyes.

"And what..." she murmured, reaching up and tangling her fingers in his hair, "makes you think you were the only one who was saved?" He looked confused and she smiled softly, running her thumb along his full bottom lip, inhaling sharply as he sucked the digit into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it. She pulled her thumb back. It was simply too hard to think, much less talk with him doing that.

He chuckled. "So I saved you, too?" he asked.

"Um..." Sookie grinned at him, her eyes dancing mischievously as she ran her hands down his chest, resting at the waistband of his jeans, racking her brain in an effort to form a sentence from the minimal Swedish she'd taught herself over the past few weeks. "_Kanske_ ... _ja_?"

He let out a boisterous laugh and pulled her closer to him. "_Bara kanske_?" he teased. _Just maybe?_, she translated in her head as he continued, "_Jag tror definitivt_."

She popped up onto the balls of her feet and kissed his nose. "Eric?"

"Hmm?"

"That may be the extent of my Swedish."

He chuckled. "The only thing you can say in Swedish is, 'I think'?" he teased, eyes twinkling.

She hesitated before she shook her head, grinning at him. "_Ja,_" she said proudly. _Yes._

He laughed again, and she was struck by the thought that she'd never seen him smile – let alone _laugh_ – as much as he had in the past hour. He seemed genuinely happy, and she couldn't help but feel the same herself.

"May I rest at your house today, my love?" he asked, once his laughter had faded.

"But it's so lovely here," Sookie said teasingly. "So clean and warm and nice…" she trailed off, giggling at the look he gave her. She kissed him gently. "Please do," she said sincerely.

The look on his face made her smile; so boyish and damn-near gleeful, she felt as if she could get away with murder and he wouldn't lift a finger to stop her. The more she thought about that, however, the more she questioned whether or not he'd stop her in the first place, and that raised far too many questions of morality for her to deal with at the moment.

"There's something else I wanted to talk with you about," Eric was saying, and she refocused her attention. "I wanted to–" He broke off and looked at her in surprise as her finger brushed against the side of his cheek, and then it was gone, leaving him momentarily speechless.

She held up her finger for him to see. "You had an eyelash on your cheek."

He blinked down at the eyelash and looked back at her. "So what now?" he asked, slightly dazed.

"Now you have to make a wish," she told him, unable to keep the smile from her face.

"A wish?" he asked skeptically, arching an eyebrow.

She looked at him, confusion spreading across her face. "You blow on the eyelash, make a wish and it'll come true." He frowned. "Oh come on, you big baby," she said, frustrated. "Blow on the eyelash."

"It sounds very scientific, Lover," he teased.

"It is," she assured him, stepping closer. "I promise."

"I'm sure," he answered, staring at her like she was insane. "A wish? Are you twelve?"

"Yes, a wish," she said, ignoring his question.

He looked passed her out into her yard and back, smiling in disbelief. "Are we children?" he asked, his eyebrow a hair higher.

"You've never wished on an eyelash?" Sookie asked with a hint of childish wonder to her voice.

"I'm a vampire," Eric deadpanned.

Sookie raised her eyebrows. "So that's a no?" she asked.

He chuckled. "No. I have not."

She grinned, her eyes dancing. "So what are you waiting for?" she prompted, holding her finger slightly higher. "Wish."

"You're not going to give up on that are you?" he asked with a small sigh.

"Nope."

He set his shoulders, staring at her finger. "At least you're honest," he murmured as he studied the eyelash curiously.

"You can never go wrong with being honest," she replied cockily.

Eric stared at the eyelash for a second longer before looking up at her. "This is silly," he decided.

"You can never be too old to be silly," she said in a slightly patronizing tone. "Make a wish, cowboy."

He hesitated, tempted to let her know just how much he enjoyed hearing her call him 'cowboy', and smiled devilishly. "No," he said, grinning.

Her eyes widened, surprised. "Yes," she insisted.

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Why?"

"Because it's silly and juvenile," he told her, unable to believe that she was seriously making him do this.

"What if we both make a wish?" she offered, obviously ignoring his reasoning.

"Wouldn't that defeat the purpose?" he asked.

"Of course not," she answered dismissively. "Now on the count of three."

"Wait–"

"One."

"–I'm not making–"

"Two."

"–a wish–"

"Three."

Despite himself, Eric found himself leaning forward slightly, his lips pursed, his eyes falling shut and blowing slightly on the eyelash on Sookie's outstretched finger. He'd fallen for it. She had said three and he had just given up protesting and done it.

Sookie pulled back, opening her eyes and looking at him. His eyes were still closed, his lips still pursed like he was going to blow still, and she took the moment to study him. He looked so young, so carefree and boyish in that moment. It was such a sweet image, she hoped that when he opened his eyes, it would stick.

It did.

She could see the child lurking in his eyes. It was adorable, heart melting and annoying all at the same time, and she couldn't help but smile. "What did you wish for?" she asked in a quiet voice.

"World peace," he replied instantly with a rakish grin. "End to poverty, a million dollars…"

"Really?" she asked, taken aback. She certainly did not peg him for much of a humanitarian.

"No." Eric laughed, his lips curling into a smirk. "I'm afraid my wish was far less noble."

Sookie took a step towards him. "What was it then?" she asked coyly.

"I can't tell you."

Her eyes narrowed slightly at him. "Why not?"

"Because – I believe – if I do, it might not come true," he replied.

She stared up at him suspiciously. "Of course."

Eric chuckled, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear affectionately. She was struck by how uncharacteristic such a gentle act seemed, coming from a vampire she knew had the capability to effortlessly tear grown men limb from limb. "What did you wish for?" he murmured, pulling her towards him.

Her hands came to rest on his chest. "You're trying to make my wish not come true?" she asked, teasing him a little. "That hardly seems fair, Mr. Northman."

"Of course not, Ms. Stackhouse," he defended in tones of mock affront. "I was just wondering if you would tell me."

"So it wouldn't come true," she accused.

"No," he said, gazing at her softly. "To see if I could make it come true."

He was staring at her mouth as if he could devour her in a moment; the thought sent a wave of heat along her spine, settling in the pit of her stomach and below. She watched the steady rise and fall of his chest; only his darkened eyes betraying his arousal.

Her gaze fell lower, surveying him, memorizing him. She couldn't help the blush that crept into her cheeks. She wanted him, and wanting him was a choice. But it was a choice she wasn't entirely sure she was prepared for.

"You're thinking too hard," he said, his breathing ragged.

Tossing him a come-hither smile she wraps arms around his neck, drawing him closer. "So make me stop thinking," she breathed.

He stared at her, looking into her eyes, recognizing her need for something more that what he thought he could ever give her. Someone she could count on – depend on. Someone she could trust. Her hands drifted down to rest against his chest as she stared into his eyes. He brought his own up to hold her face and he pressed his lips against hers in a soft, tender kiss.

He sucked on her throat, kissing a wet trail up to her ear. He bit down with blunt teeth and tugged, his breath spilling hot against her skin. Her voice melted into a groan and he felt the sharp bite of her nails as they scrabbled against his back. Suddenly he stopped, and before she knew what was happening, she was in his arms as he carried her out of his office, through the empty bar and out into the parking lot towards her car.

"Eric? What are you–"

"Keys," he demanded, plopping her down on the hood of her car and holding out his hand. She blinked at him for a moment before reaching into her pocket and handing him her car keys. He unlocked the car quickly, moving so fast he was a blur of motion to her human eyes. "In you go," he said, scooping her up and depositing her in the passenger's seat.

In the blink of an eye, he was in the driver's seat and starting the car, backing swiftly out of the parking lot. "Eric!" she said loudly as he pulled the car onto the main drag. He glanced at her, smirking. "What the hell?" she demanded.

"Sunrise is in an hour," he told her, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Okay, you could have just said–"

"But that was so much more fun!" he insisted playfully, reaching across the center console to run his hand up her leg, finding her had where it lay in her lap.

She stared at him; he was almost _cheery_. "If sunrise is in an hour, then–"

"Don't worry, _min kärlek_," he said, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing it softly. "I drive very fast."

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><p>To the best of my knowledge, 'Jag<em> tror definitivt'<em> means 'I think definitely'.

_Thank you so much for your reviews! You guys are so encouraging._


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